


Darling, Where Did You Get That Mask?

by thesassofcass



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 15th Century, Christmas, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Falling In Love, Feelings, First Kiss, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Masks, Mutual Pining, Pining, True Love, ineffable husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2020-07-18 01:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19966183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesassofcass/pseuds/thesassofcass
Summary: At the start of the fifteenth century, masquerade balls were the newest and greatest way to celebrate occasions. In London, pining Crowley and hopeless Aziraphale make their way to the palace as it celebrates Christmas Eve in a grandiose fashion. After giving up on a romantic future with each other, the two meet and fall in love for a night, their identities hidden from the world (and each other) behind masks.





	1. I Thought the Fourteenth Century Would Never End

_Thank goodnessss_ , Crowley thought. _I thought the fourteenth century would never end._ He yawned and stretched until his scaly body was at stretching capacity. Once his body was warmed up, he coiled himself into a tight spiral and sighed. He wondered what had happened in the last two decades since he had gone to sleep.

Crowley had gotten sick of the war and all that multiple pope business, as if one wasn’t bad enough. They never got the stories quite right, especially those regarding him. The Catholic Church had them convinced that he was doomed to crawl for the rest of his life after he had tempted Eve, but that was obviously wrong. He even had witnesses to prove it. He had already Fallen, so what else could the Almighty really do? Well, She probably could do a lot, but Crowley wasn’t going to press his luck.

On top of that, he hadn’t seen Aziraphale in a while. Truthfully, that had been the kicker. After inquiring about a possible Arrangement between the two of them and being aggressively rejected by the angel, he hadn’t seen him much. Thankfully, after a few centuries, Aziraphale finally came around and agreed to a small deal. If either of them was sent to the same place to cancel each other out once again, only one would do both blessing and tempting, only if they were extremely careful. Or, if circumstances were most dire, a rescue was in order.

This came in handy during the First Crusades when Aziraphale had almost joined the raid against the Seljuk Turks. He was told that a group of people were going to visit the Turks and the angel had thought they were meeting for dinner. He was excited by the new cuisine. Crowley had to step in before the army had left and rolled his eyes as he saw Aziraphale standing with a fork in one hand and a knife in the other with the biggest (and hungriest) smile on his face.

After that, he hadn’t seen the angel. He had missed their banter and the occasional soft touch. People rarely interacted with Crowley because of the bad vibes he gave off, but that never seemed to bother Aziraphale. His heart had ached to see him again, but after the rejection of even a friendship between the two, Crowley was worn out. To be truthful, he had longed for much more than that, but it seemed that Aziraphale just wasn't interested. He feared that the angel would never end up being his angel. But could Crowley blame him? He was a demon, after all. Hereditary enemies and what not. He just hoped that one day Aziraphale would be able to look past all the labels and see him for what he truly was: a fool head over heels in love with someone who hadn’t confirmed nor hinted at their affections. After all the overthinking and analyzing, he decided the best thing to do was to just go to sleep.

He originally went to sleep in his human form, dressed in a decadent robe that he had custom-made. However, since his stone house kept the temperature inside quite cool, a decade in to his two-decade sleep, Crowley transformed into a snake so he could bury himself in the extravagant pillows and blankets. He wasn’t afraid to admit that he liked the finery of life and Satan forbid he ever be out of style. Now, though, he was starting to get uncomfortable and even a bit peckish.

Crowley morphed into his human form and blinked a few times. Getting used to eyelids after being a snake for a while was always a weird experience for the demon. It was just like relearning to ride a bike: not difficult but annoying. Once he got his bearings, Crowley sighed and walked to look outside the window, his robe lightly brushing the floor as he went. _How much has changed in twenty years?_ He wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but what he did see definitely wasn’t it.

Outside, a massive crowd was gathered around an extravagant wagon with a man in equally extravagant clothing stood atop. He seemed to be yelling something. “Might as well check that out,” Crowley muttered before performing a demonic miracle to dress himself. His ensemble was a dark puffy tunic trimmed with dark blue with equally dark blue tights to accent. “Not terrible, but what am I forgetting?” Crowley hissed a little while he thought and then realized. “Of course,” he said as a delightful pair of dark spectacles with a rather sharp nose hinge sat on his nose and hid his reptilian eyes. Then, like he was always there, he appeared outside with the crowd and listened curiously to the incredibly excited man.

“Come one, come all to this holiday ball,” the herald bellowed in the jolliest of voices. “For snow shall fall outside the hall!” Crowley rolled his eyes. He hated rhyming. He did invent it, but he didn’t know that it would catch on as fast as it did. He hoped the obsession with fitting words in phrases eloquently would be over soon.

“This grand old day will be filled with cheer and we hope that you all would be here!” He opened a scroll that featured a lovely painting of the palace up on the top of the hill. Crowley snorted. “That’s new,” he chuckled.

“On Christmas Eve, in a fortnight, we want you to go to that height! A party is held by the king alone and he wants you to dance in the room of his throne!” The herald was starting to get light-headed, so he took a breath. “One more thing, it’s all we ask, but please, oh please, do wear a mask!”

He stopped and smiled at the crowd, waiting for something like a cheer. When he realized that most of the people didn’t understand what he had said, the herald rolled his eyes and sighed. “The king is holding a masquerade ball for the whole kingdom in celebration of the Christmas season. On Christmas Eve, a fortnight from now, everyone should come to the castle dressed in a costume and mask and dance the night away. That is all.”

The herald held onto the wagon as the royal steeds departed back towards the castle. The townspeople were muttering with excitement and glee. Crowley, on the other hand, just stood alone. He assumed that Aziraphale was behind this ‘masquerade ball’. A time of cheer where people could dance and be merry, and undoubtedly with lots of food? Seemed right in the angel’s wheelhouse, if you asked him. Crowley wanted to show up just to see if his acquaintance would be there, but would it be too risky? Would it even be fun? Crowley wasn’t one for social gatherings since he was always surrounded by demons during his visits to Hell, but if he knew his angel- _the angel, what am I thinking_ _-_ he would be there and any time with him would be better than none. Before he could make a solid plan, his tummy rumbled with a sound only a tummy twenty years without food could make. He felt almost as hungry as Aziraphale during the Crusades. This ball would just have to wait.

“Right,” Crowley grumbled. “Whose Pope do you have to tempt to get some beef stew around here?”


	2. Who Isn't Thinking About Cheese?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see the past two hundred years from Aziraphale's point of view and see how he feels after being invited to the Christmas Eve Ball.

“One more thing, it’s all we ask, but please, oh please, do wear a mask!” Aziraphale beamed at the poetic phrase and clapped along with the other nobles as this herald finished her announcement. “Delightful! Simply charming”, Aziraphale cheered as the excitement within him soared. The angel had been eating a lovely spot of pottage dashed with the most decadent spices-he was convinced it was cardamom and thyme at the very least-and a sliver of buttered bread when the wagon appeared, and this sweet herald shared her message about the upcoming ball.

Aziraphale finished his last bite of bread and stood from his chair in anticipation. A ball! On Christmas! His favorite of holidays! After he had seen the son of God crucified before his very eyes with Crowley, it was quite moving to see him be celebrated year after year during the most beautiful season. As he walked back to his cottage as jolly as ever, hands on his belly, his thoughts settled on the demon.

_How long has it been since I’ve seen Crowley?_ His eyes raised towards the air as he searched for the information. _I don’t think I’ve seen him since the Crusades when he thoughtfully saved me from entering a war that the Almighty DEFINITELY didn’t have anything to do with._ That was always the thing with the Crusades, Aziraphale pondered. Humans came up with ways to attack others and do it in the name of something holy and the angel just couldn’t stand for it. He had only been thinking of the many new dishes he would get to try. _If I hadn’t have just eaten, I’d be hungry again with all this mention of food. Cursed brain!_

Since the Crusades, Aziraphale had been making nice with the English Nobles. His vast knowledge of all things King Arthur, the Roundtable, and the Bible really struck the high-ranking men and soon enough, he was part of their little clique. They were nowhere near as fun as Crowley, but some company was better than none. The angel couldn’t help his naturally social tendencies.

Aziraphale tried to remember if he had seen the demon since and he finally realized that he hadn’t. The angel’s eyebrows furrowed a bit at that thought. He was quite hesitant to admit it to himself, but by the time he reached his cottage, Aziraphale accepted that he missed Crowley. Maybe even longed to see him. He wasn’t even sure where he was! _Should I be worried?_

Aziraphale started to feel guilty as he sat down in an armchair that he had miracled into his home. Though the food had gotten a bit better since last century, one thing the humans never seemed to get right was the comfort of the chairs. The angel acknowledged this, and his home featured the only armchair in existence, not that he shared this with anyone. “Perhaps I should miracle one for Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed. The angel took his copy of the Canterbury Tales by Chaucer off the arm of his chair and set it in his lap.

“If only I knew where he was, the…” He struggled for a word to find for his companion. “Scoundrel?” That wasn’t quite right. Aziraphale was taken with Crowley since he began to realize how delightful he was to be around. When you’re one of the only two ethereal beings who have been living on Earth nearly since its inception, you begin to get attached to the other. The angel believed that he probably wouldn’t be able to live without Crowley, so why was Aziraphale so harsh in 537 A.D. when he had rejected his proposal for working together outright? He probably hurt his feelings and once he realized this, he agreed a couple times to the Arrangement. Thankfully, Crowley was nice enough to help him during the Crusades.

It’s not that he didn’t WANT to work with Crowley-or honestly just be around the eccentric fellow- but he feared the absolute worst when it came to interacting with Hell. If they even had the hint of a suspicion that Crowley and Aziraphale were fraternizing (or that they had secret feelings for one another), Crowley would be obliterated. That didn’t even include what may or may not happen to him. He simply wouldn’t be able to bear it.

However, Aziraphale smiled to himself a bit. He had always wondered what it would be like if they were to ever be together in a romantic way. The angel pictured them dancing at this upcoming ball together, being cheek to cheek. He couldn’t dance that well, but he believed he would try if it meant a chance to be close to Crowley. He blushed a bit and sank lower in his chair at the thought of touching Crowley and being touched so tenderly.

As a being of love, Aziraphale felt love everywhere, from weddings to towns, from clothes to coffee. He never felt or seen that coming off Crowley, and by God he looked. The only thing the angel could remember feeling is that every time he was around the demon, he was warm. _Probably has to do with all the hellfire and damnation and what not,_ the angel sighed. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he would ever tell Crowley his feelings just for the sake of keeping him alive and nearby, let alone that Crowley had never even mentioned such a thing as romantic feelings. _Him not knowing is better than him not being alive._

Plus, he did have an allegiance to Heaven. Buggers, all of them, but an allegiance, nonetheless. Aziraphale felt that as a Principality, he had a job to do. Even if all he wanted to do was go for a walk and eat dinner with Crowley, the angel had to at least SEEM busy.

But all of these thoughts were for naught; Aziraphale hadn’t seen Crowley in two hundred years! Thankfully, he could sense him, but the connection had been dulled for a while- twenty years or so. However, this particular morning, Aziraphale had a better connection. He could almost see him. As Aziraphale began to doze off from all the thinking, book untouched in his lap, he thought only of Crowley.

_Well, Crowley and cheese, but who ISN’T thinking about cheese?_


	3. Enough to Make An Angel Weep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale prepares to go to the ball and encounters some issues.

Making a costume for this ball was not Aziraphale’s cup of tea, so to speak. In the two weeks leading up to the ball, the angel had decided that he was to make his own costume so that it would be completely unique. He purchased glorious beige fabrics that hinted blue in the shade and bought enough lace and ruffles to make the costume ten times over.

It was clear that Aziraphale enjoyed the shopping much more than he enjoyed the actual making. At the merchant square, he touched all the fabric and even tried on a couple pre-made masks, but as he sat in his chair and looked at the poorly sewed mix-match of fabrics he had made, he groaned.

Getting to that stage itself was an annoying time. Every time he tried to stitch the pieces together, Aziraphale ended up pricking himself. The first string he tried didn’t match the proper way, and for all his lack of talent in fashion, he just couldn’t bring himself to wear things that didn’t complement each other. That was where he drew the line. It was almost enough to make this angel weep.

Aziraphale was surprised that he even had a line when it came to clothing. Fashion was never the angel’s strong suit; normally, he would wear the same type of outfit for centuries until it was so out of style that he drew unnecessary amounts of attention to himself.

Crowley would laugh at him often for this. It took centuries for Aziraphale to trade out his toga and put on a tunic. The angel could never really tell the difference between the two, but the demon would always say, “Angel, you’ve got to adapt. Do you want people to find out that a celestial being is among them?” Aziraphale would always tut and brush this off. “It might do some good for people to know an angel was around. Perhaps they wouldn’t make such awful decisions,” he would retort. Crowley would smile knowingly-Aziraphale could lounge in that smile for days-and shake his head. “You’ll learn, angel. You’ll learn,” he would always say smugly, maybe even tenderly.

_Crowley would know what to do with this mess,_ Aziraphale thought. He was always dressed in fashion. It was remarkable how quickly he changed with the times, but Aziraphale supposed that perhaps he was the one creating the new times. After all, Crowley was the first one to wear tights under his tunic. _Why wouldn’t he? If I had legs like that, I’d do anything to show them off,_ the angel blushed a little as he imagined. Since it had been some time since they’d seen each other, Aziraphale let himself picture Crowley’s legs longer and stronger than even the best beanstalks he had seen.

_What am I doing? Focus!_ The angel let his head fall back in the chair with exhaustion. Aziraphale snapped. When he opened his eyes, the beautiful fabrics had assembled themselves into a mustard jacket, a beige shirt with ruffles out the front, a puffy pair of beige pants with blue stripes down the sides, and a pair of dainty gloves. Finally, atop it all, sat a full-face mask that had just as much of a jolly face as he had. Aziraphale smiled. “Perfect.”

The angel stood to admire his heavenly handiwork. He decided to spare one more miracle and snapped his clothes onto his body for a sneak peek. Aziraphale did a twirl and smiled to himself, puffing his chest a little at the costume his magic had created. He took the mask by the wooden stick attached to it and put it over his face. Aziraphale looked at his reflection in a spoon and tapped his chin. It was missing something, but what?

_Feathers!_ _Of course!_ Who didn’t think feathers were fancy? But wherever would he find them with such little time? The ball was this evening! Aziraphale set the mask down and started to pace nervously around the cottage. He couldn’t let Crowley see him in an unfinished outfit! The angel was too busy nibbling his nails to realize that his wings had unfolded behind him and were now shivering behind him. A shaking wing made its way in front of Aziraphale’s face and he tossed it aside like a curtain. He couldn’t focus with all these feathers in the way!

The angel froze and had a marvelous idea. He pulled the wing back where he could see it and plucked some of his most luxurious feathers off the wing. Aziraphale wasn’t particularly pressed about the loss of a few feathers. He rarely ever took care of them like he should, but he was slightly embarrassed at the fact that he was so busy living amongst the humans that he rarely took them out anymore. If Heaven heard that he had had his wings folded for multiple centuries, they’d have a fit.

With a smile as big as the sun, he did one final miracle and turned the feathers beige and mustard, like his costume, and placed them in his hair. The angel checked his reflection in the spoon once more and was satisfied. Now THIS was perfect. Aziraphale practically giggled with excitement. He rarely ever dressed this extravagant, even on the most special of occasions! He started walking around the cottage with a Crowley-like swagger. The angel enjoyed it for a while but had to stop when he almost broke a hip.

_How does he manage to look so calm and cool while walking like that?_ Aziraphale thought about Crowley as he slowly settled into his chair to ease the pain. He wondered if his demon- _the demon, oh good Lord_ _-_ would even be there. Ever since being in Hell practically being stuffed to the brim into rooms with other demons, Aziraphale knew Crowley wasn’t the one for social gatherings. Though, in his fragile heart, he hoped that he would be there just for the sake of Aziraphale being there. _I would never miss a party with food!_

Aziraphale gasped and raised a hand to his mouth. The other hand rested on his belly. He had been so busy with making this costume that he had forgotten to eat! The audacity! The angel huffed as he dashed to the nearest market. He needed a snack before the ball. And by snack he meant a full bowl of beef stew with a slice of buttered bread, of course. Perhaps he would also add a scone.

_Maybe two._


	4. Even the Vines Are Laughing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley gets ready for the ball and makes a confession to Heaven.

“Absolutely horrid. WON’T DO!” Crowley enthusiastically announced to exactly no one. *snap* “Can’t I get anything better than this?” *snap* “UuuagUGH NOT RIGHT.” The demon was having a rather difficult time choosing a costume as well. He stared in the mirror, hip popped and arms crossed, and looked so disappointed in the items from the best marketplace in town.

It’s important to note that the first instance of a mirror being used was in 1835, when German chemist Justus von Liebig invented the first product. Crowley invented the idea of visual vanity when he desired to see exactly what his hair looked like during the first Olympics in Athens. When he finally was able to look at himself with the device he created-the mirror-he spent at least a year just looking at himself! Crowley was so distracted that he ended up missing the Olympics. It was the first time there ever was a large-scale cheating scandal in the well-known world and he missed it. It’s one of the few things the demon regrets to this day

The demon realized the potential he had with this idea and took it straight to Beelzebub but was turned away for fear it would be ‘too evil’. So, not unlike Aziraphale’s armchair, Crowley had the only mirror on Earth simply because he wanted one. He then shared the technology with Liebig once he got word that the Victorians were coming full steam ahead and the drama queens would need mirrors.

As this particularly demonic drama queen looked into his mirror, he pouted. “Nothing is fitting me right and the ball is tonight!” Crowley snapped off this outfit and stood there in a dressing gown, handmade with the brightest rubies along the seams meant to compliment his fiery hair, and his red tights. He only wished he could wear this to the ball. Wouldn’t that be a sight?

Crowley began to pace angrily and ranted to the vines growing along the stone in his home. They shivered. “The last outfit hugged my hips too tight and I couldn’t move suavely, which is an ABSOLUTE no. What would Aziraphale think? The outfit before that was the wrong shade of crimson and it looked like I was a GODDAMNED TOMATO. And the one before that I just simply hated it. That’s it! I can’t go!” He dramatically fell back into his throne and hmphed. Of course, he was going to go, he just wanted to milk the moment.

_Why am I so nervous?_ _I always get so picky when I’m nervous. But none of these costumes look right!_ Crowley was trying to find the balance between looking like he had tried very hard to look great for his angel- _damn you brain_ _-_ and looking like he hadn’t given it a single thought. Obviously, this was a very difficult balance to find and Crowley was getting more irritated by the second. None of the costumes here had added any value to his situation and he didn’t know what to do. _I might as well just go to China and get silk!_

Crowley’s pouting fit stopped as he pondered this. He couldn’t very well just go to China in his dressing gown, but perhaps he could just concentrate and snap something here? The demon decided to give this a try. He focused hard on exactly what he wanted: a blood red silk shirt and button-up, a matching red doublet with black stripes, and a crimson cape. Crowley almost snapped until he made a slight adjustment: _add rubies to the cape._ The demon snapped and not at all coincidentally his dream outfit was there, including the rubies! Back in Beijing, the chief textile expert for current rulers of the Ming Dynasty had a heart attack.

Crowley snapped once more, and the outfit appeared on him. He was hesitant to look in the mirror since he liked the look of this outfit; it was always a different story when it was on him. Being fashion-forward didn’t always mean self-confident. But as the demon looked reluctantly into the mirror, on his face was the biggest grin he’d had since the day he met Aziraphale. Not quite as big as that one, but almost.

Crowley looked great! The outfit hugged him in all the right places, and he looked like a bejeweled star. He did the most important part-the saunter test-and it was just enough room for his hips to move like they weren’t even attached! The demon shook his head a bit and kept his smile. “One last touch,” Crowley hummed as he picked up the mask he had left on his dressing table and put it on. It was a tying mask of Satan smiling, just enough of a nod to Hell to keep Beelzebub happy and just enough of a satire to keep Crowley amused.

In this outfit, all the impossible became possible. Every part of Crowley’s costume made him feel like he could do anything! _You know… maybe I could._ He never knew how to tell Aziraphale his feelings, but he lived by one very old rule. Crowley felt that if he dressed great, he would feel great! Surely feeling great would eventually get him to admit his feelings!

This ideal originally helped him to cope with the loss of Heaven and his Fall, but it evolved over time to be more of a romantic crutch for Aziraphale and he opened up more with him the better he was dressed. Perhaps this is why he always was fashion-forward: Crowley always wanted to open up to Aziraphale, as hard as it was for his kind to do. Unfortunately, this hadn’t worked for over 1400 years, but tonight was the night. He had to look his best to tell the angel how he felt, and he didn’t know if he would ever look better than this.

_I should_ practice. He smirked as he sauntered by his mirror. Crowley leaned one elbow against the mirror, cleared his throat, and said, “Hey, angel. You look great. Can I grab you some cake and maybe have some of your own?” He shook his head immediately and scowled. “Right. Not that at all.” He turned around and went back a couple steps to try again. “Aziraphale, dude! I like your face! Let’s go out and maybe I can kiss it!” Crowley was confused. “Why did I say dude? WHO AM I DOING THIS FOR?”

The demon sat exasperated in his throne and groaned. He didn’t want to be suave. Aziraphale was the only one he could be vulnerable around and this was the most vulnerable thing he has ever had to say. Crowley looked up to the Heavens. “I suppose I should speak from my heart, shouldn’t I?” Like usual, there was no answer. “Your kind really likes confessions. Pompous!” Crowley closed his eyes but opened one to look up. Nothing felt different, but the demon really wanted to give this a go, so he sighed and continued, “but I’ll give it a try.”

Crowley took a few minutes to give this confession a lot of introspective and emotional thought. This was unusual for the demon. Some who had seen him on the streets before would have said this is the way he always looks, but little did they know that any time Crowley was quiet in public, he was either plotting or pining. Usually both.

Once he was ready and his heart was open, Crowley began to speak. “Aziraphale, I’ve known you forever. Yet, every time I am around you feels like a split second. I long for it to keep going and for you to keep talking and for us to keep being wherever together. You are the only one of your kind who has given me a second look since I Fell and the only person who has ever made me feel like I could, I don’t know, pet ducks or sing in open fields-and you know how much I loathe those things!” Crowley giggled at the thought and continued.

“You are the one who makes living on this strange world like my own personal Heaven, even if you are always getting into trouble and calling me fiend. I don’t know if you have ever felt this way for me, but I need to let you know that I have loved you forever. If you feel the same, I’ll take you out of this dumb party and go get you something sweet. Because that’s what you’ve done for me and my life.”

It was silent for a while. Then, Crowley gagged. “I meant every word, but shit, that sounds revolting. I’m drowning in caramel. Even the vines are laughing!” But as grossed out as Crowley was, lying underneath was the incredible urge to release all this caramel into the streets and the world. And he would do that tonight.

_I might have to do that for real sometime! Make everything sticky. What could go wrong?_


	5. You Can Smell the Cakes From Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley arrive at the ball and anxiously wait to meet.

_Oh. My. Goodness. You can smell the cakes from here._ Aziraphale stared through the window of his coach up at the entrance of Windsor castle. The straight road up to the magnificent castle was covered in powdery snow. Arches of garland, ornaments, and candles that stood over the road looked like they were coated in powdered sugar. Evergreens were seen closer to the castle, but Aziraphale couldn’t get over the beauty of this winter wonderland in the moonlight. The angel nearly shed a tear under his mask.

Aziraphale had not been quite sure how to arrive at the ball. Usually, he took to walking places. After Gabriel had hinted at his excessive use of miracles- _and my… thicker physique_ _-_ the angel began walking. It felt nice, but in the freezing weather of December, Aziraphale was quite sure that he would catch frostbite on the way to the ball. He already had enough trouble dancing without it, so he asked some of his aristocratic friends what their plan was for the evening before his costume fiasco.

“Mr. Fell! How silly of you!” They all laughed haughtily. “Of course, we are going by coach! You do have a coach, sir?” Aziraphale quickly and nervously let out a strange laugh and said, “Ha! I must have fooled you! I have a lovely coach.” The angel left and began to worry an awful lot. What type of carriage would he even use? He for sure didn’t own one. He would just have to miracle one. It had to be convincing to the socialites, so perhaps a solid gold? Gold linings? Designing was never Aziraphale’s strong suit.

Plus, Gabriel would for sure notice a bright gold carriage being miracled for a ball! He would without a doubt scold Aziraphale and perhaps even give him a disapproving look! That wouldn’t matter much to Aziraphale. He wasn’t swayed by these acts of disapproval by Gabriel. He truly did not care that much about what Gabriel thought, but anything at this point may give up his alliance with Crowley and get him killed! Now THAT wouldn’t do. However, Aziraphale decided for the first time that maybe it would be better to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.

He would just say that he took it to make sure he got to the ball fast enough to foil Crowley’s plans. _That wily serpent might have gotten away with his schemes had it not been for my thwarting with the coach,_ he would say. Aziraphale had nodded. That wasn’t exactly the truth, but it should go over alright. _Lying always worked with Crowley, so it may work in this instance for me._ Also, if he did in fact tell Crowley his true feelings, maybe he could take him home in the carriage and take care of all his evil schemes with a spot of tea and time with each other. My, my, did that sound lovely.

The angel was about to let himself imagine what Crowley would look like sitting in his armchair in the cottage when his thoughts were interrupted by a trumpet. “Welcome to the Christmas Ball! Merry holiday!” The heralds chortled in unison at the top of the road into Aziraphale’s coach. The angel giggled and waved through his small window. “Why, thank you! Stay warm, gentlepeople!” His coach went through the first stone entranceway and stopped right before the door, a bright and warm light coming from inside.

Aziraphale stepped out of the coach, thanked the driver immensely, and wrapped his arms around himself. The costume he had ‘made’, though stunning, wasn’t serving the purpose of warmth well in this chill. The angel snapped and an extra fur lining appeared on the inside of his coat, invisible to the eye but wonderful to the body. He wasn’t about to be too cold to enjoy himself! That was always the worst feeling at a party. Aziraphale took a deep breath and raised his jolly mask to his face. He couldn’t wait to see Crowley. The angel walked through the door to find the most beautiful-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Evergreens? Seems a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Crowley chuckled as he passed the candlelit trees covered in ornaments. Say what you will about the Christmas spirit and the Christmas holiday, but the evergreen tree was never one of Crowley’s favorite trees. He didn’t like the fact that they were seen as more special than the other trees. Crowley started to hate roses because of their importance during the Valentine’s season. He loved plants since Eden and believed they all deserved to be liked equally. Favoritism was not something that sat right with Crowley. _At least not with plants. I’ve got plenty of favorite things._

The demon walked by the trees and inspected the architecture inside. He had always wondered what the inside of a castle looked like, ever since he was kicked out of King Arthur’s, and he was absolutely marveled by it. The walls shone a bright gold as if they had come from Heaven itself and the intricate details of the wall façades almost made Crowley gasp. He wasn’t used to seeing such beauty in places where he hung around and he was truly grateful to the castle for sharing this with him. _Well, not me personally, but they know what I mean._

The hallway boasted large works of art featuring kings and queens and the like. The candles in the grand chandelier was casting almost ominous shadows across the walls, but it was beautiful, nonetheless. _Not every kingdom can reign forever_ , Crowley thought as he continued to walk. The demon received some rather pointed looks as he roamed the hallway to the ballroom. He hoped they were for his devilish good looks, but upon remembering that he was wearing a mask, he assumed it was just because he looked devilish in his, well, devil mask. It wasn’t the most festive way to ring in the holiday, but this costume was so Aziraphale could spot him if he couldn’t find him first.

Crowley was always good at that, spotting Aziraphale first. In all their history, he had only twice been approached by the angel, Rome and Wessex, and even then, only one time had been pleasant. He was rejected the other, but he didn’t want to think about that tonight. He had dressed confidently to make him feel confident and so far, it wasn’t working. You couldn’t tell that from looking at him, though. He looked as cool as a cucumber, but under his mask, his eyes were fully yellow reptilian.

The demon sauntered until he reached the grand entrance to the ballroom and looked inside. It was somehow even more luscious and luxurious than the hallway. His aesthetic mind was admiring all of it so much he almost forgot that he was about to change his life forever. As he stared at the candlelit room, Crowley wished he didn’t get so nervous about Aziraphale. It’s not like he was a small schoolboy who was pining over another small schoolboy. They were ancient occult beings, for someone’s sake! _It must be the humans,_ he thought. _Their silly ways have rubbed off on me._ He feared the rejection of the only constant in his life. What would he do then? _Stop thinking like that! If I lose my nerve now, I may never confess._ And that is not something that he thought he could do.

Crowley finally stepped into the room and began looking about for Aziraphale. His eyes searched the room anxiously. They rested on couples dancing in the candlelight and a pang hit his chest. What he wouldn’t give to dance the night away with his angel he didn’t know. To hold Aziraphale and hear him laugh as he struggled to step to the tune and sway to the orchestra and-

He had to focus, so he forced himself to look away. Crowley noticed a table along once wall covered in cakes, treats, and entrees and many people surrounding it. He scanned the crowd to see if anyone stood out as particularly squishy. Unfortunately, it seemed that everyone in this era, at least the nobles, enjoyed being plump. Crowley sighed. _I suppose I’ll just have to talk to everyone until I find him._

_Right. On my way, angel._


	6. Suppose We've Got to Learn Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale meets a stranger and discovers something he hadn't thought about before.

Before this day in history, Aziraphale had never seemed to have enough food. Of course, he ate at every meal and became full, but he always wanted more, at least to some extent. One slice more of bread and butter, one more bowl of porridge, or even one more leg of mutton! But tonight, at this Christmas Ball, Aziraphale thought that he may never want to eat again. His food intake for the evening was as follows: one fry bread topped with honey, two rabbit thighs, one apple, two more fry breads with honey- _just because they were lovely and I’m treating myself_ _-_ , three small cakes, and nearly one full block of cheese. The angel had washed all of this down with multiple glasses of French wine.

Aziraphale felt like he had eaten enough for two angels, maybe even three, before he remembered that they wouldn’t eat anything at the table anyway. _More for me!_ His stomach churned. _Perhaps not._ He looked for a space to sit down, but alas, as far as he could see, there were no tables. Just the open ballroom floor crowded with couples. The angel sighed and looked around anxiously. _Where’s Crowley?_ He leaned up against one of the ornate walls, staring up at the chandelier covered in candles, lighting up the room and casting beautiful shadows on the walls like a dance. It was just so-

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice wrenched Aziraphale from his admiration. He turned to see none other than Satan! The angel gasped and raised a hand to his chest. Lucifer himself must have found out about him and Crowley! The arrangement! Aziraphale almost miracled himself all the way to Timbuktu, but a braincell sparked and he remembered he was at a costume party. What a close call!

“You frightened me!” Aziraphale sputtered, still trying to catch his breath. “That costume isn’t exactly jolly!”

“What, you don’t like it?” The figure questioned. The Satan mask covered his entire face, but the angel could tell he was smiling. He rolled his eyes as he overlooked the whole costume. It fit this man well and was obviously made of extravagant rubies and silks.

“It looks ornate, but I wouldn’t be caught wearing that in a million years. What would people think?”

“That it looked ornate, but nobody besides me would be able to pull it off. Unless, of course, they wanted to,” the stranger purred. Aziraphale scoffed. The nerve! “If it makes you feel better, you DO look jolly.”

“That was the point of this ball, was it not? To celebrate the jolliest of holidays. Dress up to spread cheer.”

“Meh. If you say so.” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

“Well, if you aren’t a fan of the holiday, why did you attend the ball?” Satan seemed to sigh- _yawn?_ _-_ and looked about.

“Needed to get out of the house. I was cooped up for a century.” The figure stiffened. “Or at least it felt like one.”

“Doesn’t sound too fun, if you ask me.” The angel offered.

“Hence my visit here. You were just at the table, weren’t you? Anything good?”

“Are you trying to small talk with me?” Aziraphale gave him a questioning look. Satan shifted a bit.

“Er, it’s possible. But I suppose I am trying to find the best item on the buffet.”

“Why is that?”

Satan paused for a while. “Not like it’s any of your business, but I’m looking for someone. Haven’t seen them in a while and I thought he might be here. He’s… he’s a bit of a food connoisseur, so I was wondering if I could grab something for him before he showed up.” Satan chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Aziraphale questioned, but there was a playful hint in his voice. This man was interesting.

“I could walk up to him holding his favorite cake and act like, ‘oh, s’nothing’ even though I’ve memorized it.”

Aziraphale smiled. “That is very sweet. However, don’t you think it would be better to act like you cared about it? Bit more sincere.”

“Ah, you wouldn’t understand.” Satan looked away.

“You don’t know that! I know just about everything.” Aziraphale said proudly. Satan looked back and snickered.

“Now who’s forcing conversation?” The angel was surprised at this stranger throwing his own words back at him. _Extremely witty! Crowley and Satan would get along nicely._ His surprise must have been evident, because Satan let out a hearty laugh, which in turn caused Aziraphale to blush behind his mask. Satan sighed happily and continued. “He doesn’t respond to that type of thing. You know, clear and open. He’s incredibly intelligent but hopelessly oblivious. Or worse, uninterested. I don’t know if I could withstand the anxiety of putting myself out there to him that way.”

Aziraphale felt sad for this man’s plight, but also another emotion he hadn’t really been able to process before: guilt. This man’s friend- _lover_ \- had a lot in common with the angel. Aziraphale had never thought about how Crowley must feel about his frigidity. He had kept himself away from that opportunity with Crowley because he was terrified that he would be caught by Heaven, but now, he didn’t care. Now he kept himself away from Crowley because of Hell and what they would do to his demon. Aziraphale frowned. He had never shared any of this with Crowley, so he must think the same thing this man thought about his lover about Aziraphale.

“Maybe he’s just not aware that he is making you feel like this. Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt you. Or himself.” Aziraphale said-admitted-quietly.

“Maybe.” Satan looked off towards the crowd dancing, but then shook his head. “But I don’t know why he doesn’t tell me if that’s the case. He can trust me. I would do anything for him. I’ve even saved his life! I would protect us from harm. It’s disappointing that he doesn’t know that. But I will always be here for him. Waiting.”

The two stood in silence for a while, staring at the dancing couples and just giving each other the strange but nice company of a stranger. Aziraphale’s head just swam with thoughts of Crowley. He didn’t know if he could bear Crowley thinking that he didn’t value him. The angel trusted him completely, but he couldn’t just let the two of them run around all lovey dovey with Heaven and Hell watching! That would be dangerous! That being said, he never considered Crowley’s possible willingness to protect Aziraphale and himself. Crowley had indeed saved his life before. And after that, Aziraphale had still been dismissive. He had always dismissed him. And he feared that, unlike this man, maybe Crowley stopped-

“Hello?” A voice pulled Aziraphale from his thoughts. The angel shook his head and saw Satan facing him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked why you were here. Alone.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak but paused. He looked around for his beautiful demon, scanning the dancing crowd. He didn’t see anyone that looked like him. Aziraphale didn’t have Crowley’s ability to sense his friend, so he didn’t know if he was at the party. Or even in England! He looked down and opened his heart to the saddest possibility of all: he pushed Crowley away. He lost his demon before he had a chance to take him in the first place. Aziraphale couldn’t imagine Crowley waiting for him that long, at least not with his hesitance and irritation. His heart hurt.

“You alright?” Aziraphale’s companion leaned towards him slightly, as if he wasn’t really familiar with what to do or why he was doing it in the first place. The angel looked up at this stranger. Even though Crowley wasn’t here and may never be again, this man gave Aziraphale a strange feeling of utter comfort and support. He wondered offhand if they had ever met before.

“No. I am not fine. I was here looking for someone also, but it seems like they might have given up on me.” Aziraphale nearly whimpered. Satan leaned back a little and sighed knowingly.

“Well, maybe I can take your mind off it? Until my ang-I mean my friend-arrives.” Satan offered. Aziraphale thought about this for a second and wiped a tear on his cheek from under his mask.

“That sounds lovely. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all! I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.” Satan looked towards the crowd once more. “Would you like to dance?”

Aziraphale gasped. “Dance? Me? Oh no, I don’t know how. I couldn’t.” Satan cocked his head to the side.

“Well, neither can I. Suppose we’ve got to learn together then.” The stranger held out a hand expectantly at Aziraphale. The angel looked down at his feet. His heart was aching, his head was swimming. His world was crashing down and this stranger seemed like the only thing that could help, at least right now. He made a choice that he hoped he didn’t regret.

Aziraphale put his hand in the stranger’s and breathed out to calm himself.

“Alright. Lead the way.”


	7. What Is There to Be Nervous About?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley tries to be a good demon but really only wants to feel loved as the ball really begins to kick off.

Crowley was just as surprised as anyone when he unloaded his literal life story onto that interesting man. He was even more surprised when he himself asked him to dance, knowing he was a shit dancer, let alone that he should be waiting for Aziraphale. And now, even after he had asked the man dressed like a less-colorful Santa to dance and thought he was full to the brim of surprise, Crowley was baffled when the man took his hand.

Say what you will about animals and their intelligence, but the instinct of an animal is never wrong. They feel emotions just as humans do but make most of their decisions based on what feels right inside the deepest part of the core. For some very strange and somewhat troubling reason, Crowley felt an intense gut pull to Neutral Santa. He wasn’t one to hide his feelings if he felt like sharing, but he had never trusted anyone enough to speak so candidly about his angel to them. _DEFFINITELY not someone I’ve known for five minutes._ But it really felt right. It felt like looking at a painting in a museum when the man placed his hands on his supposed full belly. It felt like music to his ears when he gave him advice. It felt like a piece fitting into a puzzle when Santa put his hand in Crowley’s. And he felt scared- _guilty_.

“I didn’t know DuFay was going to be here!” Santa chortled nervously as he looked at the composer, bringing Crowley out of his head.

“Right. Royals must have pulled out all the stops.” The demon mused, still attempting to wrap his head around this Aziraphale mess, but the mess faded away the longer he held Santa’s hand.

“Well, it is Christmas, after all. A delightful holiday! The joy and love this time of year is delectable! Not to mention the treats!” The man rambled. His grip on Crowley’s hand grew tighter.

“Are you nervous about dancing in front of this concerto casanova, ang-mister?” Crowley took a deep breath. _What is going on? All I did was ask this nice man to dance and now I’m calling him angel?_ The demon’s hand began to sweat for the first time in all his history.

“What? No!” Santa replied. He paused for a moment and then continued with a reluctant head droop. “Well, I am now that you mention it.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow under his mask. “So you’re nervous about something else then?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What is there to be nervous about?” The man asked in a way that was extremely nervous and meant the question was not at all ridiculous. Santa’s grip on Crowley’s hand slackened a bit as they settled onto the ballroom floor.

The demon smirked. He didn’t know why making this man flustered, even under a mask, was such a joyous experience. This man’s emotions were candy and Crowley was a bratty kid that just entered the store. But what about Aziraphale? He could be here, maybe could even see Crowley with this man! _Not that he would care…_ He had been asleep for the good part of a century and he never even received a carrier pigeon from Aziraphale! _Was he not worried about me?_

This crisis was a bit too much for Crowley. It made his insides hurt; he felt human. He would give his life for Aziraphale and he didn’t know if the angel even knew he was still alive. But being with this companion was making him feel better. He wouldn’t think of giving Aziraphale up for good, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t seduced others during his time pining for the angel. It was his job after all, and a fun one at that. If he was already in the middle of a crisis, why not do the one thing that was giving him pleasure at this moment? That’s what a good demon would do, right? He made a decision that he would hopefully enjoy: he was going to delve deep into this man to find out his desires. _Not that every demon has to distract themselves from loving an angel, but the logic is the same._

Crowley gripped Santa’s gloved hand and pulled him flush against him, almost melting from the amount of courage that the action provided-and the pleasure it offered. “I’m not so sure, dear. What IS there to be nervous about?” Crowley purred and twirled the two of them. The demon reveled in the squeak the man gave in reply. “Could it be that DuFay is playing _Adieu ces bons vins de Lannoys_ and not _Apostolo glorioso_? Or that all the food you consumed is now causing a bit of a tummy ache?”

Crowley drank in the nerves of the man like a vampire would blood. He could read him like a book! This was due to his demonic identity: lust was easy to discover on others. The interesting thing about this Neutral Santa was that it was so deep that he couldn’t seem to find it. This man had layers upon layers of feelings, including self-doubt, responsibility, guilt; the usual ones. However, there was a barrier that was quite unique: protection. This man was protecting his heart, for his sake or someone else’s. It almost made the demon feel bad about digging so deep. But he just couldn’t help it! He’d never found someone he could delve so deep into and at this point he was bound to find something good. He would just have to give one more push.

Crowley leaned into the man’s ear and nearly touched the tip of it with his slithering tongue. “Or, is it because you are doing something that you’ve never done before and you’re not sure what to do from here without this special person?”

Even under the mask, it was clear that this man was blushing profusely. He practically emitted a signal that screamed “FLUSTERED” at anyone in a five-meter radius. Sounds were coming from behind his mask that sounded like Santa was trying to come up with some excuse but just ended up stuttering. Crowley waited until the man stopped, sighed, and nodded his head.

“Might I make a suggestion, then?” Crowley whispered. The man seemed to almost mindlessly nod again. “Why not enjoy it?” Bingo. He felt the inside of the man open up and he nearly got a taste of this desire when-

“W-what about your lover? Aren’t you supposed to be waiting for him?” The man squirmed slightly to get away from Crowley, but he didn’t try very hard.

“Just like you, I think he’s left me behind. Not interested. And-”

“But I’m not so sure he’s left me behind.” Santa squirmed a little more. “I can almost feel him here-I feel like he’s here-at this ball. I just can’t tell-”

“Maybe he hasn’t left.” Crowley’s bad boy persona had dropped completely. “Maybe mine hasn’t either. But don’t we owe it to ourselves to have at least one night where we aren’t thinking of how much better life would be in their arms?” Santa stopped fidgeting and looked up towards Crowley. “Because at this time right now we can be-and actually are-in each other’s arms. And that’s enough for tonight, yeah?” Crowley paused and gulped as the words fell out. “I can go back to pining tomorrow, but if it’s all the same to you, I would like to be with you tonight.”

The man raised a hand to his chest, clearly touched, and he looked around worriedly, and maybe a little conflictedly. After what felt, at least to Crowley, about ten years to decide, Santa placed his extra hand on the demon’s shoulder. He let Crowley fully take his waist in his hand after he had squirmed away. They fit together in a way that can only be described as predestined and, for tonight, they’d accept that fact.

“You’d like to be with me tonight?” Santa questioned slowly.

“Yes, I do.” Crowley crooned.

“Well, I suppose I’d better learn how to do this dance.” Santa nodded towards the crowd preparing for some sort of group dance.

“Right. Let’s go, ang-DEAR.” Crowley rolled his eyes and walked very happily towards the crowd preparing for the Basse dance, Santa very close behind. _This is going to be a good night,_ Crowley thought as he looked towards the ceiling, seeing the glittering light of the candles.

_And nothing’s going to ruin it now._


	8. Would You Like to Go Somewhere Less Crowded?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale tries to make sense of this evening with his companion, but things take an interesting turn.

Aziraphale was going to pass out. He wasn’t sure if it was from the complicated dancing, the massive food intake, how fast he was almost falling for Satan, or a mix of all three. What he was sure of was that he was almost down for the count.

His companion for the evening was definitely not a practiced dancer, but what he lacked in technique and finesse he made up in energy and spirit. Though the Basse dance is mostly stepping, nodding, and spinning, he did these motions like he was having the most fun he had had in a century.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was busy trying to stand up straight and not hyperventilate when the two of them held hands to care too much about his dancing. He wished to not make a spectacle so, of course, he didn’t. The angel had such a capacity for knowledge that he probably knew every step to every dance that had been invented thus far. This sounds wonderful, but the catch is that reading about dancing doesn’t teach you how to do it. That being said, he had many other things to worry about now. He took advantage of this miracle of nobody seeing his terrible dancing to think.

Here he was, with a full stomach and in the arms of Satan at a ball celebrating Christmas, a holiday for Jesus Christ, who Heaven chose to kill. If Aziraphale wasn’t painfully aware of his stomachache, he would think Archangel Gabriel would have smote him down personally for all these transgressions. He imagined Archangel Michael clutching her golden broach and Archangel Uriel raising both eyebrows quite high. He imagined God Herself shaking her head at his sudden behavior. But the most surprised of all was definitely Aziraphale.

_What has gotten into me?!_ The angel thought this and many other thoughts like it as the song came to an end and Satan led him off the floor by his waist. _I came to this ball for Crowley and now I am in the arms of Satan._ It wasn’t that Aziraphale was upset with the way things were going: it’s that he wasn’t upset. He was completely fine with this man touching his waist like no one ever had before. He was completely fine with this man sneaking glances at him behind the mask like a child. He was completely fine with this man leading him to the refreshment table to grab a small glass of wine to rehydrate a bit. Aziraphale was ashamed.

He didn’t really know why, though. As he drank, he tried to compile all his thoughts, but boy, was it hard to focus when Satan still let his arm wrap lazily around the angel. Once his brain was on the right track, Aziraphale was ready to process. _Alright. I am with a male companion that I have only known for an hour or two and he has touched and talked to me more deeply than anyone, even Crowley._ Aziraphale tried to figure out why. _Of course! I wasn’t_ _-_ _and still am not_ _-_ _able to show that type of affection to Crowley because Heaven and Hell would find out! As much as I would like Crowley to be in this man’s place, he just can’t._

Alright, that had been figured out, but why was Aziraphale moving so fast with this human? _That is a good question. It must be because this is my first human affair and it hardly counts as cheating on Crowley. Oh, good lord, I am not even with Crowley, so I can’t cheat on him! Ridiculous._ Aziraphale looked at the man turn to lift his mask and take a drink. When Satan was done, he tossed the glass and returned the mask to his face. The angel couldn’t help but giggle at his complete disregard for the property of the royals. _For some reason, I feel like I’ve known this man forever._

“Somethin’ funny, doll?” Satan asked the angel, leaning in much too close. Aziraphale blushed and covered his mask’s mouth.

“Nothing, dear. Just that I’m sure the table right next to you would have also been a perfectly good home for that poor glass.”

“It had a smudge. Deserved to be on the floor. If royalty can’t even clean their glasses, what are they good for?”

“My dear! Don’t criticize them! We are surrounded by royalty! Aren’t you even of them?”

Satan gasped at such an accusation. “Me? Royalty? Do I give off that kind of impression?”

Aziraphale tilted his head. “What kind of impression?”

“The one that makes it seem like I don’t care for people ‘beneath’ me? Like I would let the poor be poisoned by the water supply and do nothing but live in luxury?” Satan seemed hurt.

The angel shook his head. “When you put it like that, no, I suppose you do not.”

“Right. Good. I would hope not.” Satan took another glass and downed it as Aziraphale smiled, feeling like if he had a heart, it would have skipped a beat. “All the royals are a bunch of figure heads, anyway. The real work gets done beneath under our noses. Manipulative, that lot. If I do offend them, I’ll be happy.”

“I never thought of it that way.” The angel touched his chest with a bit of surprise. He was far too busy with books and assignments from Heaven to give Humanity a true closer look. _Perhaps I should make more of an effort to do that._ Aziraphale’s thought was interrupted by a crowd of the dancers storming the table to drink and eat, seeming all worn out. He did not care for crowds or accidental touching, so the angel started to panic.

Satan seemed to see this and leaned into him to say, “Would you like to go somewhere less crowded, dear?” Aziraphale’s head almost fell off from how much he nodded his response. Satan let out a small snort of a laugh and took the angel’s hand once more. Aziraphale saw him looking for somewhere to go, but Satan was quite a bit taller than him, so the angel couldn’t really see where they were headed. He just hoped it would be somewhere private. _Romantic_ , his brain added before the angel blushed.

Satan led him through the crowd, making sure to keep the angel safe from dancers, musicians, drunks, and the like. Aziraphale was struggling to breathe, so he looked up to the Heavens. Not like they were comforting either, but at least when he looked up, the candles looked like stars. Finally, they made it to a small wooden door and opened it. He almost went right in, but he turned to Aziraphale and stopped.

“Wait, close your eyes for me.”

“W-what? That’s preposterous! Whatever for?”

“’S a surprise! You’ve gotta.”

“Is this really necessary?”

“Pleasssse?” Aziraphale’s heart burst in a very strange way and he couldn’t help but comply.

“Fine, but only this once.” He closed his eyes and heard the door open. The angel felt his companion take both his hands and lead him through the door. Satan stopped moving, cueing Aziraphale to stop, and finally, the door closed. The angel sat in uncomfortable near silence- _luckily I can still hear the music_ _-_ for what felt like minutes, but was definitely only a second, when he finally heard Satan’s voice once more.

“Right. Open.” Aziraphale opened his eyes from behind his mask and was a bit embarrassed by how loud he gasped at the sight.

The two men stood right before a balcony overlooking the village and a rather large part of the kingdom. The balcony was framed by a stunning stone archway coated in ivy and, strangely enough, roses. _How terribly romantic._ Aziraphale stepped forward onto the balcony and looked at the night sky, moon and stars shining bright onto the trees, and the two men, below them. He pressed his hand to his chest from the sheer beauty of it all. It was no Eden, but he had always been so busy with assignments that he forgot to smell the roses, no pun intended. The angel had only ever begun to slow down with Crowley, but Satan was a step further. He decided to smell the roses.

“Nice view, eh?” Satan murmured as he stepped forward to join Aziraphale on the balcony.

“Incredible, really. I’ve never stopped to enjoy an evening sky.” The angel turned to Satan.

“You should! The nighttime is the best time.” Satan said with great conviction.

“I’ve heard that’s when most things go wrong. Like my dancing.” Aziraphale made a joke at his own expense.

“Psh, you did wonderful. That lot doesn’t even know how to dance with spirit. I wouldn’t worry about what they think.”

Aziraphale gave a genuine smile. “That’s not the easiest thing to do, you know. Some ang-people are important enough to worry about.”

Satan shot him a look. “God could threaten to smite me down and I would be fine. Not like she hasn’t done enough already.”

Aziraphale cocked his head a bit but brushed off his confusion. “Anyway, thank you for bringing me here. How did you know this place existed?”

“Call it a miracle, if you’d like.” Satan purred as he gazed back at Aziraphale.

“I’m sure it was.” Aziraphale giggled at the thought of this man performing miracles like he did every day. It was still a sweet sentiment that someone would perform a miracle just for him. He secretly hoped this would happen more often. The angel looked back at Satan to give another quip when he saw how his companion was looking at him. He blushed as the man watched and gave a hearty sigh.

“Whatever are you looking at me like that for?” Aziraphale managed to say, almost too fast.

“You look lovely in the moonlight, ‘s all.” Satan returned, nearly whispering.

“Oh, good lord. Everyone looks lovely in the moonlight.” Aziraphale tried to parry. “Also, you can’t even see me.”

“What, because you have a mask and a costume on, I can’t comprehend that you would look good enough to kiss tonight?”

Aziraphale nervously laughed and looked away. “Oh, please!” He gripped the balcony to steady himself. _Why am I swooning?_

“I’m not lying, but suit yourself.” Satan said in a sing-songy voice.

“Well, you can’t even kiss me! We’re wearing masks!” Aziraphale fought weakly.

“Oh, I don’t know, I was thinking we may, I’m not sure, take them off?” Satan said coyly.

“Preposterous! That would ruin the whole ball! It’s supposed to be one big secret! That’s the fun of it!”

“Alright. I’ve got a solution if you’d like to hear.”

“Oh, must I?” Aziraphale said sarcastically, surprised at his own fervor. This man was rubbing off on him.

“Ooh, tetchy!” Satan shot back and they both laughed, having to hold onto the balcony and each other to stop their laughter. Their nerves only accelerated the laughter. “I’m thinking that we swear not to open our eyes, both take off our masks, and then just do it! Thoughts?”

“What a great plan! I’m quivering in anticipation!” Aziraphale tried to shoot back, but he wasn’t joking.

“Alright! Masks off on three.” Satan got closer to Aziraphale and put his hands on his mask.

“One.”

Aziraphale gulped and put his hands on his mask as his mind filled with questions. _Why am I even considering this? Why am I even in here with this man? Why isn’t this Crowley?_

“Two.”

_What is going to happen after this? What if he opens his eyes? What if he finds out I’ve never done this before?_

“Three.”

_Why am I so comfortable around him? Why am I letting him do this with me? Why am I dying for this to happen?_

“Now.”

Aziraphale pushed his mask off his face, his would-be heart beating a mile a minute. The angel didn’t know what to do with his mouth, so he just kept it closed and still. He felt the man’s hands find his face and pull it closer. This process took a second and Aziraphale almost pulled away, but at the last second, the strangest sensation forced him still.

His lips were pressed against the man’s. They stayed that way for a couple seconds, both of them seemingly not aware of what to do. _What on earth am I doing? Am I supposed to be doing something?_ Aziraphale moved his lips slightly out of simple discomfort, but instead of pulling away, the man leaned into the kiss, opening their mouths a little wider. Their tongues met for a brief second and Aziraphale broke out into a sweat. _Good lord, what is this… feeling?_ Aziraphale gasped a bit into the kiss, leaving some space, which the man filled with his lips.

They held each other in the moonlight and Aziraphale felt emotions pour out of him. Happiness, loneliness, pining, grief, guilt, lust, pride. He didn’t know how to categorize them all, but so much poured out that he had to press himself to the man to stay standing. _What is he doing to me?_ Aziraphale had this incredibly happy thought filling his head. His companion gladly bore his weight and held the back of his head in his hand to keep the angel steady.

The funny thing about senses is that when you take one away, the others are heightened. Since Aziraphale’s sight was gone, as the two swore, he seemed to be hyperaware of his other senses. As he kissed the man, he realized that he tasted distinctly of alcohol and something mysterious, maybe even dark; Aziraphale loved it, whatever it was. The angel felt his head steadily in the man’s hand and the hand that he had pressed into his companion when he nearly fell touched a hard, almost bony chest. _He should eat more_ , Aziraphale thought quite randomly in his euphoria. He heard, other than the intimate sounds the two of them were making, the faint sounds of crickets, music, and screaming. _Screaming?_ Aziraphale was almost too light-headed to notice why this sounded out of the ordinary. But then, his last sense hit him.

He smelled smoke.


	9. Isn't That the Type of Shit You Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley enjoys his evening with Santa until Christmas Eve turned dangerous.

_I’m about to pass out,_ Crowley thought as he took Santa’s hand. _Told him I’ll take him somewhere more private and I’ve never even been to this castle before! What am I s’pposed to do now?_ Crowley, probably a little more drunk than he would have hoped he would be tonight, had nearly forgotten he had the power to miracle anything he wanted into existence. But he couldn’t let his companion figure that out.

Crowley thought about where he would have wanted to take Aziraphale on a night like this. A beautiful balcony overlooking the snow-covered town. A clear sky to see the stars, even in the winter. Dark enough to be romantic but light enough to where they could see each other. As he took a step towards a far wall, he snapped and a door was there, as if it had always been. He smiled and hurried Santa over to the door and went to open it. _Oh, but what if he doesn’t like it?_ A voice prodded him.

“Wait! Close your eyes for me.” _Just in case._ It took some convincing to have the man close his eyes, but once he did, Crowley felt a little less anxious. He always closed his eyes when he was nervous; it made him feel less vulnerable. And when he told this man off the cuff that he would like to kiss him, using every ounce of confidence he had tonight, he was thankful that the man didn’t want to see him. Or his true identity, rather.

“I’m thinking that we swear not to open our eyes, both take off our masks, and then just do it! Thoughts?” The man wasn’t convinced at first, but he definitely wanted to kiss him back. Crowley could tell. He could always tell. That’s why it was always so hard to be around Aziraphale. He always felt fuzzy around Aziraphale, but he couldn’t sense any desire from him like he could from humans. But the demon couldn’t really focus on the angel when the man agreed to kiss him if they promised to close their eyes.

“One,” Crowley said, almost nervous. _Why am I nervous about this interaction with this mortal? I’m absolutely giddy._

“Two,” Crowley laughed. _I feel like an excited child. Santa’s going to kiss me!_

“Three.” Crowley lifted his mask and went to kiss the man but realized that he couldn’t see him. _Ngk._ He reached out for a body to come to but ended up touching the man’s face and neck instead. A chill ran down his spine as their skin connected and this caused Crowley to nearly attack the man’s lips with his. And once they were touching, Crowley’s mind started to float.

Though Crowley is a demon with lustful capabilities, he had never done anything of that sort on Earth. He was hoping that if he ever reached that point that Aziraphale would be the first-and hopefully the only-one to help Crowley express himself in a sexual way. Now, that doesn’t mean that Crowley hadn’t had his full share of sexual content in his lifetime. He had seen every sex act invented thus far and even initiated some of them by sending desires to humans.

It’s also incorrect to assume that Crowley hadn’t ever been touched before. Hell was essentially a long line where the person in front would always go too slow and the person behind would always go too fast. With the sheer amount of demons in Hell, Crowley couldn’t leave without having had physical contact with just about everyone as he inched towards the elevator. But being touched and being kissed, those two things were totally different: this felt electric. If Crowley had known how this felt, he would have kissed Aziraphale a long time ago.

Crowley was completely content holding the man’s face, but when the man had to catch himself against the demon’s chest, he realized that he wanted to hold all of him. He happily held his weight and pulled him even closer, wanting to be as close as possible. _This must be why people enjoy sex: this isn’t close enough._ Cheekily, and just because he could, Crowley let a hand slide a little lower to hold the man’s lower back. The demon was loving the opportunity to experience all these new feelings and sensations, so it was quite an abrupt shock when it all stopped. The man had left his arms.

“Wha-Where are you going?” Crowley said as he managed to pull his mask back on. He opened his eyes to see the man running out of the room. The demon walked towards the door and saw why his companion had run.

The ballroom that moments ago had been filled with the sounds of music and joy was now just a room full of screams. The candles from the chandelier had set the lighting instrument on fire and burning wood had begun to litter the floor. The ceiling also began to catch, sending more burning wood raining down. This ignited the beautiful wood floor and now everyone at the ball was trying to find the nearest exit that wasn’t covered in flame. The smoke was so thick that it was nearly impossible to see, but Crowley was able to see masses of people tripping and stumbling to get out. _Fuck, everyone’s so drunk that they can’t even get out properly! Guess things could go wrong._ Crowley took a step towards the crowd to try and help- _Satan forgive me_ _-_ but he saw Santa already standing in the middle of the room ushering people out.

“This way! This way, everyone! Watch your heads!” Santa yelled as he directed people out the doors. He seemed to have no regard for the growing fire all around him and instead only seemed interested in helping others out. _Unselfish sexy bastard’s going to get himself killed!_

“What on Earth are you doing? Get out of here!” Crowley shouted as he sprinted towards his companion, avoiding the fires. The man turned to him with a vigor in his eyes that he didn’t think he had ever seen. Crowley wouldn’t admit it for years, but his companion was glowing, and the demon was terribly conflicted.

“You’re one to talk! You get out of here! I’m trying to help everyone get out of this blaze.” The man retorted with a roll of his eyes.

“Sometimes it’s important to save people and other times it’s important to get the Hell out of dodge. Come with me, we’ve got to go.” Crowley wrapped an arm around the man’s waist to pull him towards the door, but Santa stood steadfast against him.

“No! I am not leaving until everyone else is alright! If you want to go so badly, go!” The man practically yelled as he looked frantically around the room.

“I’m not leaving without you!” Crowley blurted out and the man stopped arguing to look at him, still in his arms. The demon could have sworn the man’s blue eyes flashed with some strong emotion and he nearly collapsed with a new burst of affection. “I can’t just let you die in here trying to be a hero.”

“Well, then I guess you’ll just have to help and then escape with me.” Santa proposed. Crowley thought about this for a moment. Santa wanted him to stay in a collapsing room that was also on fire so he could save humans instead of sweeping him off his feet and outside into the snow. _This is quite literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard._ Crowley let out a mix between a groan and a yell and looked around the room. _Of course I’m doing it._ Crowley thought he saw the man smirk.

“Alright everyone!” Crowley yelled as he approached a large group of scared and terribly intoxicated royals surrounded by burning wood. The demon snapped and a small opening appeared in the fire. “I know you’re struggling to stand up, but you need to take what little brain power you have left and move your feet away from the fire and out into the snow. So move!” The royals ran, and tripped, out of the fire circle and made their quick way outside.

“Please, you must all go to the door! Hurry! It is imperative that you go quickly!” The demon overheard Santa yell to the last people in the room. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked towards the chandelier. _Blasted candles. Didn’t even smell good._ Crowley walked back to Santa and took his hand.

“Alright, may we go now? Makes no sense to be standing in a burning building for no reason, now does it?”

“Oh please. We were saving people, it was important.”

“Well, saving people still interrupted a moment that I feel was also important.” The man blushed.

“Don’t be silly…”

“Silly? Do you disagree?”

“You’re interrogating me!”

“All I want to know is if you were enjoying yourself. With me, I mean.”

“I… I was enjoying myself. With you. I had no idea I was capable of… feeling that way. Almost makes me want to stay here a little longer.”

“Is that so? Well, I don’t see why we can’t-”

“DARLING LOOK OUT!”

Crowley felt a giant force push him away and he fell to the ground. When he looked up, somewhat pained and confused, he saw a giant piece of the burning chandelier hit the ground with a giant crash right where he was standing a moment ago. He narrowly missed it. The demon looked to the side of him to check on Santa but didn’t see him. Growing increasingly nervous, he looked around the whole room. No sign of him. _Oh shit._

“Santa! Where are you?” Crowley hopped up and ran to the piece of burning chandelier. He tried to shift it as tears formed in his eyes, but it wouldn’t budge. And it burned.

“What the fuck do I do now? Snap it away?” Crowley almost missed his own power and he shook his head quickly. He snapped and it moved. The demon ran to the other side of the blaze to see if he could find the man. No sign of him. All that was in his place was the mask, slightly singed.

With a strangely broken heart, Crowley picked up the mask and looked around at the fire that burned all around him.

“He was just trying to save everyone! Isn’t that the type of shit you love? And now he’s gone? Burned? Dead?” The demon yelled towards the Heavens, to God, clutching the mask to his chest. When he heard no answer, only the burning of wood, Crowley sniffed and walked out the door where he wanted to fly out with the man earlier. _Sometimes we can’t always get what we want. But I didn’t think death for a man with a good heart was a worthy punishment._

As Crowley walked through the snow, he passed a church singing the midnight hymn. He held the mask to his heart and shook his head at the irony. He had hoped to spend the night with Aziraphale, but he didn’t show. Then, he spent the evening with an incredibly lovely human who was taken from him during the act of saving others.

_Merry fucking Christmas to me._


	10. The Tiramisu Won't Stay Good Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the present day, after all of the business with Armageddon and the switching faces, Crowley and Aziraphale have a nice evening out that ends with the question we've all been wondering.

“To the world?” Crowley offered, looking like he had swallowed half of a love potion.

“To the world!” Aziraphale took wholeheartedly, looking like he had drunk the other half. He had been dreaming of an evening like this for centuries, just him and Crowley free from the chains of their sides and forming their own. They ate together like they hadn’t eaten before, openly and happily. Even Crowley ate more than his fair share.

“He’ll have another slice of tiramisu. The more cocoa powder on top, the better. And I’ll take one more bottle of wine.” Crowley almost smirked. Aziraphale blushed and put a hand on Crowley’s, clearly touched. The waiter who had brought them the first bottle of wine nodded and walked to the kitchen, smiling the whole way. _That couple is so in love. I wonder how long they’ve been together._

He would probably be surprised if he knew the men had known each other for six millennia and just recently acknowledged the incredibly obvious yet somehow unspoken feelings they had for each other. Just recently as in the bus ride home from defeating Satan. Or, more accurately, sitting by as Adam defeated Satan and ever so often giving him moral support. It was the first time they had held hands earnestly and honestly in all that time.

The Armaged-didn’t had only been the day before, and earlier today they had had to put on each other’s faces to fool Heaven and Hell into leaving them alone. All these two wanted to do after that somewhat terrifying experience was be together. And dine at the Ritz, of course.

The dinner was almost perfect. Crowley would have said it was absolute perfection (if you asked him when he was drop dead drunk), but Aziraphale, as happy as he was in this moment, felt a little guilty. He would never admit to anyone, probably not even God herself. Not that she would need the clarification, but the intention would have been to hide this feeling. After all, when was an angel supposed to feel guilty? Even though he wasn’t officially part of the faction, he was an angel through and through. Aziraphale looked down as he drank the wine Crowley had graciously poured for him. His thoughts transported him back millennia to the only night he may ever regret.

The angel stood in the burning castle with Satan holding his hand. His companion didn’t seem scared of the fire, which was rather strange, but he could barely think of it over the immense rush of love he had felt from kissing him. As an angel of love, he felt it everywhere he went. Passing by nobles on the streets or walking by the lake, he almost went out seeking that sort of second-hand feeling rather than finding it himself. He was always scared Crowley would not give it to him. _If I could have seen us now, I would have never waited this long,_ present Aziraphale interjected into his own story.

However, the angel felt an immense rush of love in the short time that they were kissing and as Aziraphale held Satan’s hand, he felt it again. He just didn’t know why. And when the ceiling was about to fall on the man, the angel felt terrible about pushing him, but he saw no other choice! He couldn’t risk a human finding out he had any ethereal abilities! Aziraphale, in his haste and shock, accidentally snapped himself outside into the snow, undoubtedly leaving the man alone in the burning building. The angel ran back inside to get him, but by the time he had arrived inside, Satan was gone.

Aziraphale cried for a week after this, fearing something terrible had happened to the poor man because of his own mistake. This loving man, so kind, so helpful, so romantic, was a breath of fresh air in Aziraphale’s life, but he never once saw him again. The angel had never once killed a living creature, but he felt like his companion died because of him. He would forget about it every century or two, but when it came back, it hit him like an apple falling from the Tree of Knowledge.

“Something on your mind, angel?” A voice ripped Aziraphale from his flashback and when the angel looked across the table, he saw Crowley looking at him with obvious concern, even behind the glasses. The angel looked back and smiled.

“Just thinking about how we’ve come this far, dear. Who knew it would end up like this?” Aziraphale said dreamily, his sad memory being whisked away by a significant burst of love from Crowley.

“Y’know, secretly I had hoped it would end this way. Well, almost this way. I had hoped to give Gabriel a hit in the head with a wine bottle, but we can’t be so lucky. Or can we?” Crowley coyly held up the nearly full wine bottle he had used to pour Aziraphale’s drink.

Aziraphale gasped and began to laugh quite loudly for the appropriate sound level for the Ritz. “No! You mustn’t, darling. Wily serpent, you!” The angel shook his head as the waiter returned with a plate of decadent tiramisu topped with plenty of cocoa powder for the two of them.

“Sorry for the late request, but would you mind packing that to-go? We’ve got somewhere to be.” Crowley said to the waiter, much to Aziraphale’s surprise. The waiter smirked and went right away.

“Dear boy, whatever was that for? Where are we going?” Aziraphale looked almost worried for a moment.

“Don’t fret, angel. You have a habit of fretting. I’m just taking you home.” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow as he sipped his wine. In response, Crowley smiled, embarrassedly. “I want to have an evening just the two of us in the privacy of my own home. A night where we don’t have to worry if someone’s watching and a place where…” Crowley looked away. “Where I’m comfortable just being with you.”

Aziraphale smiled, his insides almost rotting from the amount of sweet love coming off of Crowley. He took the demon’s hand in his and almost instantly, Crowley moved to kiss it, looking to Aziraphale for permission. After a blush and a small nod, the demon gently caressed the angel’s hand with his lips. Aziraphale had a feeling that that had been something Crowley wanted to do for centuries and, at least for the angel, it was well worth the wait. Seemingly realizing he had been far too nice in one small span of time, Crowley looked away again, a small blush dancing on his cheeks.

“But mostly it was because I know you like to eat sweets in your pajamas. Nothing to do with me-” Crowley said, trying to sour the sweetness he had given a moment ago, but Aziraphale shushed him with a tilt of the head and a glance of acceptance. He didn’t have to hide himself from Aziraphale anymore, and he was getting used to it. It would be a slow process, but one that would only get better with time. The angel saw the waiter coming back with the wrapped dessert and smiled at how life had become so wonderful.

“Of course, darling. Nothing at all.” As they drove to Crowley’s flat, the Bentley knowingly played “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” and “Crazy Little Thing Called Love”. Both beings blushed as they held hands and listened the whole ride home.

After they arrived, Crowley held open the door for Aziraphale, sending a good-natured but mocking “after you” his way. They entered the minimalist space and you could nearly hear the plants perk up when they heard the door. When the two entered, the plants shone like green lights in the night.

“Darlings! Hello again! You look even more wonderful than this morning.” Aziraphale praised the plants, taking the plant mister and giving each one a light misting of water. If plants were like cats, they would have purred.

“Now don’t be too kind to them, angel. They’ve still got to be good or it’s in the incinerator for them!” Crowley threatened with a raise of his eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t think of it, dear.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes as he spoke, his heart secretly soaring. The angel knew that these plants were his coping mechanism for falling. He would threaten them within an inch of their life to be perfect and when they weren’t, he put them outside as their Fall, always making sure a kind owner took them in afterwards- _not unlike how I did for him, the old sod_. Aziraphale would never tell Crowley, but he had sometimes seen the plants outside on the curb wearing little leather jackets or sunglasses.

After cooing over the plants, Aziraphale set the mister down and walked up to Crowley, who had been watching him and practically pouring out love for his angel. Aziraphale assumed he had always kept it in check, but now that he didn’t have to, he was sending it all willy nilly! _I suppose I’ll have to get used to this,_ thought the angel coyly as he kissed his demon on the cheek. He could have sworn Crowley blushed so hard that his hair caught fire.

“Shouldn’t we get you in your pajamas? This tiramisu won’t stay good forever, you know,” Crowley tried to say with a bit of bite, but there wasn’t even a hint of bark.

“Of course. How silly of me.” The angel smiled at him. “Lead the way.”

Crowley took his angel’s hand and Aziraphale grabbed his more steadily, trying to show Crowley how much he was enjoying their time together. The two giggled like schoolgirls as they walked to the bedroom. The demon opened the door and saw the pristine sheets, the deeply cleaned room, and the tartan pajamas folded on the bed. He turned to the angel with a giant grin.

“It was already clean, and you still felt that you had to miracle it up? I’m not a slob.”

“Oh, hush now! You know I was only trying to make it look nice.”

“Of course. You love when things look nice, don’t you? You thought you’d be coming back, huh?” Crowley teased, but Aziraphale took it in stride.

“I didn’t think that. I knew it. This place is quite empty, and I figured you would enjoy the company. Was I wrong?” The angel threw back, catching the demon off guard.

“Touché, angel.” Crowley took the pajamas, set the tiramisu down in the pajamas’s spot on the bed, and handed them to Aziraphale. “Here you go. Still don’t know why you wear those.”

“It’s fashion and class, dear. You wouldn’t understand.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes as he miracled into the fresh and comfy garment. He sat on the edge of the bed next to the tiramisu and opened the box hungrily.

“Excuse you! Who just took you to the Ritz? I have class out the wazoo!” Crowley playfully shot back as he opened his closet door. “Should I wear the black velvet pajamas or the red silk pajamas? What’s the weather like tonight?”

“It should be nice. A little cool.” The angel half replied, too busy holding the to-go fork to dig into his tiramisu.

Crowley took both pairs of pajamas, leaving his closet door open, and held them in front of him in the giant mirror. After a bit of time, he decided he just couldn’t choose and turned to Aziraphale. “Well, tell me which one looks better.”

“Darling, does it really matter which one you wear? Only I will see it.” Aziraphale chuckled, but secretly felt honored that Crowley wanted to look good for him. _And he always does,_ the angel thought with a smirk.

Crowley collapsed onto the bed, fully dressed. “Alright. Neither one of these will work. I can’t be bothered. Would you mind going to the closet and picking one for me?” He smirked at Aziraphale, who had his mouth full of tiramisu. “Since you know so much about fashion.”

Aziraphale tutted as he reluctantly set down his cake and stood up to look in the closet. “You have such a flair for the dramatic, dear.” He looked inside and saw mostly pajamas. _Why does he have so many? I’ve only ever seen him sleep once before,_ Aziraphale thought off-handedly. He grabbed a nice pair, black with a darker black lined across the pajamas, and looked up to see if Crowley had the matching sleeping cap to go with it, but when he saw what was lying on the shelf above the clothes, he dropped the pajamas. _I can’t believe it._

Crowley looked up and saw the angel holding something and noticed the pair of pajamas on the floor. “What, you don’t like that pair? Still, you didn’t have to throw it on the floor.” His angel didn’t respond. “Angel?” Aziraphale turned around, tears pooling in his eyes, nearly shaking, and looking reverently at something Crowley had never showed to anyone before.

“Darling, where did you get this mask?”


	11. Most Bizarre Alibi I Have Ever Heard for Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale finally find out what happened on the night of that ball all those years ago.

“Angel, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Crowley sat up abruptly on the bed, confused. After having the evening of his actual dreams with his angel- _finally_ _-_ it was safe to say that whatever was happening right now was not in the itinerary of the evening. He had planned desserts, talking, and probably a bit of cuddling if Aziraphale was game, but now he was crying! And over Crowley’s mask from millennia ago? _What is going on here?_ The angel didn’t answer. Instead, he kept staring at the mask and running his hands over the ornate stones. Hating to see his angel distressed, Crowley hopped off the bed to go to him.

“You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong-” but Aziraphale put a shaking hand up and looked at the demon with a face he had never seen before. Crowley was confused and, to be honest, a little frightened. “What is it?”

“Crowley, it is imperative that you tell me where you got this mask quite promptly.” Aziraphale said, nearly stuttering.

“Why, do you like it-”

“Crowley.” The almost icy tone in the angel’s voice was quite unusual and caught Crowley off guard.

“Y’know, I don’t really know what’s going on right now, but if you want to know about that mask, I would have to share the long story. Very long and somewhat embarrassing, you wouldn’t like it.”

“I’ve got time.” Aziraphale looked Crowley level in the eye, which was somewhat surprising because he was shorter than Crowley. He looked down to see that the angel was slightly levitating. _W-what? He’s floating over a mask?_

“Ah, I mean, alright. Well, if we’re getting embarrassing.” Crowley rolled his eyes and laid back on the bed. _Probably much too casual for this faux argument, but if I’m telling this story, I’m telling it my way._

“After saving you during the Crusades, I truly felt head over heels for you. More than at Eden. But we barely spoke after that, and I felt like you didn’t want to be around me, much less had any feelings in return. So… I suppose that I… ngk… overreacted a bit and slept for around a century. When I woke up, it was the fifteenth century finally and I overheard in the village about a Christmas Masquerade Ball. I figured that you would have loved an event like that, with all the free food and fun fashion, so I attended. I looked for you everywhere and when I didn’t find you, I…”

Crowley stopped. He had never told anyone about Santa, especially not Aziraphale. Of course, it was what the Them would have dubbed his ‘sexual awakening’ and it was very important to him, but who could he tell that would take it seriously? Plus, he had just gotten to this point with Aziraphale and if he admitted that he had a very brief rendezvous with a human, he might be upset. _Disgusted, even._ He hadn’t even kissed Aziraphale yet after six thousand years and he was kissing this man after not even six hours! What would he think?

“And when I didn’t find you, I left. That’s all.”

“Crowley, you are a rotten liar.” Aziraphale warned.

“Hey, it comes with the territory of being a terrible demon. Fell in love with an angel, after all.” Crowley tried to joke, but the angel didn’t respond. “That’s what happened!”

“Swear it.”

“What?”

“Swear it on me.” Crowley stopped being dramatic and sat back up in bed to stare at the angel. Aziraphale really wanted to know about his infidelity that wasn’t even infidelity? The demon gulped. _He already knows._

“Angel, I…” He looked down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I was drunk and you know sometimes I’m impulsive and emotional when I’m drunk. And I missed you. What else was I supposed to do?”

“NOT KILL AN INNOCENT MAN, CROWLEY.” Aziraphale cried at him before holding the mask close to his chest. The angel fell into sobs and Crowley, the poor dear, was more confused than he had ever been.

“Excuse me, you think I what?”

“The fire you started killed someone! Someone very kind and helpful and wonderful!”

“The fire I started? No, the fire was already going when I was on the balcony kissing Santa.” Crowley said exasperatedly. A moment went by and then it hit him. _I’m fucked._

“Kissing Santa? That is the most bizarre alibi I have ever heard for murder, Crowley. I can’t believe you.” Aziraphale shook his head and turned towards the door.

“Wait!” Crowley panicked. He could have sworn that Aziraphale was using some sort of angelic power compelling him to tell the truth because it came spilling out.

“Aziraphale, I don’t know what the significance of my mask from that night is to you, but I swear I did not set any fires, nor did I kill anyone. I only couldn’t save someone.” Crowley looked down and thought about Santa for the first time in a bit. The sadness hurt him once more. To think Aziraphale would accuse him of killing the man that he had only wanted to save was absolutely preposterous. It was silent for a while, which didn’t make sense to Crowley, so once he was done sulking, he looked up at Aziraphale who was studying him.

“Did you say this was your mask?”

“Of course it’s my mask! Could you picture anyone else wearing it?” Crowley retorted without any bite. He was exhausted by his confession.

“And you said you were kissing Santa Claus on a balcony? Before the fire?” Crowley groaned guiltily and looked away.

“Yes, it’s the truth. Well, not the real Santa Claus, I don’t think. The mask and costume just looked a lot like him.”

“Hm,” was all Aziraphale said in response. Crowley couldn’t bring himself to look at Aziraphale.

“I’m sorry, angel. If it makes you feel better, I lost him that night too, like you lost whoever you’re talking about. I even kept his mask in my closet.” He snapped and the Santa mask appeared in his hand. He thrusted it in Aziraphale’s direction like a child would show a parent the half-eaten cookie they stole before dinner. “I hate to admit it, but I always felt guilty about his death, but that was an important moment for me, so I kept his mask. You know how I keep things that remind me of people who mean a lot to me.” He gestured into the hallway at the eagle statue from the church in 1941, a date both the angel and demon remembered very well.

It was silent once more and Crowley couldn’t bear it. “You know how much I hate the quiet, angel,” he whispered softly as he looked back to Aziraphale, but he was quickly quieted by the angel’s lips on his. Crowley was almost too shocked to realize it was happening.

_Oh my god. I’m kissing Aziraphale. My angel. I’m going to explode. Thank you, God. And I suppose sorry for corrupting your angel. But not really because this is the best thing that has ever happened to me ever in the history of… ever._ All these thoughts filled the demon’s head as he kissed the angel with all the emotion he had been saving for six thousand years. He nearly fainted when Aziraphale returned it all right back to him; he was so close to fainting in fact that he had to hold on to Aziraphale’s incredibly ugly tartan pajamas to keep upright.

When the angel finally pulled away from him, Crowley covered his eyes in fear that he would cry. “I don’t know why you did that, but I am not unhappy.”

“Neither am I, dear.” He heard Aziraphale say, followed by a sniff. He removed his hands from his eyes to see that his angel was the one crying. _What a fucking emotional rollercoaster._

“Angel, why the Heaven are you crying? Was I that terrible of a kisser?” Crowley asked, only half joking.

“Dearest, don’t you see? I was-am-Santa Claus! And you must have been Satan!” The demon gave Aziraphale a look of offense and the angel rolled his eyes. “That night you said you kissed a man on a balcony who looked like Santa Claus, yes? I kissed a man on a balcony who looked like Satan.” The angel blushed. “I never told you because I was ashamed that I had done that with someone that wasn’t you, but Satan was so endearing about his own problems with love!” The angel stopped and covered his mouth with his hand. “You were talking about me the whole time! Oh Crowley, if I would have known. When I pushed you out of the way of the burning chandelier that fell-I am so sorry for that by the way dear-I accidentally snapped myself out of the building! My mask must have fallen off then. When I ran back in to find you, you were already gone.”

“I left after thinking Santa died. He didn’t die, though. You just popped outside.” Crowley almost didn’t believe him at first, but then all the pieces fit into place. Santa being delightfully pudgy, at the table of food, a terrible dancer, and sassy enough to keep up with the demon. _I should have known. I’m an absolute moron._

Crowley grabbed his angel to kiss him once more, love blossoming between them like roses in the spring. “We kissed each other so many centuries back and it took us until today to actually be together. What is wrong with us?” Crowley said and laughed with all the glee that he had, which was an immense amount.

“So many things, my love.” The angel said back. _My love. Fuck._ Crowley forgot how to function so much so that he turned into a snake. Aziraphale giggled and picked up the snake and gave him a peck on the top of the head, which caused the snake to wrap all around him. “You cannot react this way every time I call you that, especially since I will be doing it much more often now.” Crowley popped back into human form, still wrapped around his angel and still blushing.

“I love you, angel. Sorry it took me so long to admit it.”

“I love you too, darling. Sorry it took me so long to acknowledge it.”

They sat together and hugged for a while when Aziraphale gasped lightly. “You kept your promise!”

“What?”

“When I asked you not to look at me when we were about to kiss, you really didn’t! You are so honest.”

“Oh, now I wouldn’t go that far-”

“You helped me save all those people inside the building! And cared enough to save my mask!”

“Wait just one second here-”

“You are probably the nicest demon alive!”

“ANGEL!”


	12. We Better Not Regret This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Anathema prepare for a Halloween party. Crowley and Aziraphale are having a different party.

“How’s the punch coming along, hun?” Anathema said as she peeked into the kitchen at Newt, who was situated in front of a bowl of red liquid. Well, it was pink, but it was on the way to being red.

“I think,” he paused to wipe his forehead, “it is almost done. Did Agnes ever give any tips of how to force kool-aid into its proper color?” He looked back at his girlfriend with a glimmer in his eye.

“Actually yes, she did.” Anathema retorted. Newt looked shocked, but then Anathema started laughing. “It’s been months and you still believe that joke! I may still have all the old prophecies memorized, but they aren’t useful anymore. And definitely not useful for party punch.”

“Well, excuse me for thinking that my precious darling would be able to stop joking for a single second. Aren’t you going to get into your costume?” Newt turned to fully face Anathema. He was wearing a hoodie and jeans with one of Anathema’s handbag. With one smooth motion, he pulled the strings on his hoodie until his face was scrunched. Then, he crossed his arms.

“What… and I cannot stress this enough… the fuck are you wearing?” Anathema could barely get out before she started to snicker.

“I’m someone who doesn’t like my birthday.” He said as if it was obvious. “What, did you not see that article in the New Yorker about elaborate costumes? It was hilarious!”

Anathema rolled her eyes with a smirk on her face. “You and your need to explain things. Okay, hun, but make sure that punch gets finished! I’m going to try and convince Wensleydale that it’s the blood of terrible men or something. I bet Pepper will have a laugh.”

Newt opened the hole in the hoodie again. “Darling, you don’t need to scare people with your witchcraft pranks anymore. I mean, how long have you been in Jasmine Cottage? I think the locals are used to you by now.”

“Well, after this Halloween party, they won’t know what hit them!” She shouted this with great fervor before running to the bedroom.

“Christ. Don’t forget your costume!” Newt shouted back as he went to try and figure out the punch.

“I won’t! Hey, while you’re down there, call Aziraphale and Crowley! Make sure they’re still bringing the sweets.” Anathema called back.

“Do you think they’re at the bookshop or the flat?” Newt yelled, swirling the spoon hopelessly in the kool-aid.

“Crowley said they’d be at the flat. Said something about matching costumes.” Anathema stuck her head out of the door of the bedroom. “And try not to be awkward.”

Newt scoffed. “And why do you think I would be awkward? Me, being awkward? Shocking.” Anathema gave him the look and he sighed. “Alright, I won’t be. It’s not every day that you become friends with occult beings. Give me a break.” Anathema smiled and blew him a kiss before going back inside the bedroom.

Newt, of course, caught the kiss and put it in his pocket. “Hopefully I can save that for later. Now, where is that number for the flat?” After searching the kitchen for a couple minutes, Newt found the number for Crowley’s flat on the fridge, which is coincidentally where Anathema had told him it was a couple days ago. She’s always smart like that. He went to the phone and gave them a ring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crowley hadn’t meant to end up in this position when he invited Aziraphale over. He hadn’t done anything at all to end up like this! Really, all he had done was make sure his plants were looking especially vibrant with twice as many threats as usual. And if he was being honest, he made what the kids called a “pregame” of Aziraphale’s favorite foods, sushi and crepes specifically, but that was just being polite! Well, he supposed that he had left out getting dressed in the Satan costume from all those centuries ago so Aziraphale would be accepted at the door by him in his costume, but he had only meant it as a surprise! How did he know that Aziraphale would already be in his costume? And how on Earth was he supposed to expect that the sight of Crowley in his costume would summon an Aziraphale he had never seen before? An intimate moment like this was not on his itinerary for the evening, especially not with Aziraphale initiating it. And yet, here they were, laying on the bed making out, and Crowley, the poor dear, was absolutely starstruck.

“A-Aziraphale! We’ve got to go!” Crowley said against his best interest, secretly begging that the angel would accost him.

“Why, dear? We’ve got eternity.”

Crowley hissed. _Jesus, if that isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve heard in all of time. And I watched the opening production of Chicago_! Aziraphale smiled at the snakey sound and then got a little more handsy with Crowley’s bony behind than either of them expected tonight.

“Darling, you know how much I love candy and the children, but…” Aziraphale pulled back to give Crowley the unforgiving puppy dog eyes, “do you think we could stay in tonight? Seeing you in this getup reminded me of how pent up I was all of those years ago and now we’re free to do anything we want.” The angel kissed the demon’s nose and smiled quite devilishly. “And that includes each other.”

With that, Crowley died. Or at least it felt like he did. Crowley’s blush would have rivaled Marie Antoinette’s. Here sat his beloved angel saying dirtier things than he believed angels could ever say- _I guess he isn’t all angel anymore_ _-_ on his favorite day of the year, Halloween!

Unfortunately for both of them, the phone rang. It startled them both out of their intense moment and they both blushed like teenagers.

“Guess I’ll get it,” Crowley giggled before miracling the ringing phone over to him. He smiled at the angel before picking it up. “WHAT?”

“Ah, Mr. Crowley? This is Newt. Newt Pulsifer? Anathema’s boyfriend? The man with the glass-”

“YES, I know who you are, Newt. What do you want?” Crowley said while Aziraphale breathlessly giggled in the background, which made the demon quite antsy.

“Oh, did I interrupt something important?”

“What do you think?”

“Goodness, I’m so sorry. It’s just Anathema asked me to give you a ring to make sure you were still bringing the candy to the party for the kids. She wants this party to go perfectly for them and-”

“Yes, yes, buckets of candy. Got it. Ciao.” Crowley impatiently began to hang up the phone when he heard,

“WAIT WAIT WAIT!”

“What, Newt?”

“Before you go, you wouldn’t be able to miracle kool-aid into the right color, would you? You see, I’m having a bit of an-” With a loud click, the telephone hung up on poor Newt. _He should know better than to call ME! Who knows what I’m up to at any given time?_

“Love, you didn’t have to be rude to him. He’s just a boy.” Aziraphale tutted at the demon, booping his nose before getting up and miracling his costume unwrinkled and pristine.

“Boy or not, he was being annoying. I suppose we’re going now?” Crowley pouted before Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“Yes! They’re counting on us to bring the candy! Now straighten up. We’ve got to be on our way. It’s a drive to Tadfield, even if you drive like a maniac.” Aziraphale teased. Crowley huffed before getting up and miracling his own costume fixed. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the finishing touches.

“Your mask, angel.” Crowley handed the Santa mask to Aziraphale and put his own Satan mask on. “We better not regret this.”

“Why would we? It’s a delightful get-together with our friends! Stop fussing.” Aziraphale lightly poked Crowley in his chest, who responded with another huff.

“’M not fussing.” Crowley fussed. The two of them grabbed the candy bags and started towards the door past the food. “Even made that for you,” the demon said, definitely trying to gain sympathy.

“And I appreciate it, dear. Are you really upset that we’re going?”

“Noooo. I just wanted to stay here with you, ‘s all.” Aziraphale turned back and gave Crowley a pity smile. He leaned forward and gave the demon a small kiss on the cheek of his mask.

“Do we not have all the time in the world?”

“Yeah, but… you know what I mean.”

“Yes, darling, I know what you mean.” Aziraphale started towards the door, before turning around to smirk once more. “You know, we do have after the party. It’s not like we regularly sleep or anything.”

Crowley immediately perked up and smiled himself, from ear to ear. “Well, then! What are we waiting for, Santa? To the Bentley!” He lightly tapped Aziraphale’s behind with his hand. “Let’s go! Can’t leave the Halloween party waiting!”

“Oh, you wily serpent! And I'll be eating that buffet later!”


	13. You're Wearing Duck Slippers, Mister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley decorate for the holidays in the final chapter.

“To the left. No, dear, my left. Riiiiiight there.” Aziraphale walked up to examine the evergreen that Crowley quite tiredly moved from the hood of the Bentley.

“This is your left.” Crowley said, muffled behind the tree.

“Oh, dear. You’re right. My bad. To your right.”

“That’s the same direction!”

“Oh, you know what I mean! Just bring it to the exact center. Right where I discorporated.”

“Like that’s something I want to remember.” Crowley steadied the tree finally. “Like this?”

“Wonderful. See? That’s perfect, darling! Time for cocoa!” Aziraphale left the room while Crowley thought about this whole decorating shindig. Of course they could have just miracled the tree inside. They could have miracled every decoration in the world into the bookshop if they had wanted to. _“But where’s the fun in that?” Aziraphale said. The bastard,_ Crowley thought to himself as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. _For someone who loves to use frivolous miracles, I’m not sure why this could not have been one of them._

The demon had been trying to help the angel arrange the bookshop to celebrate every holiday in a different section. Aziraphale loved the inclusivity of every holiday and Crowley loved the opportunity to spend money on his angel. Since it was the closest to Aziraphale’s history, they set Christmas right smack dab in the middle of the bookshop. Crowley had hung little snowflakes around the ceiling while the angel, who’s whole idea it was to decorate, decided that he should do a bit of extra reading while he put Crowley to work. He didn’t really mind it.

It was worth every amount of minor inconveniences his angel put him through if it would put a smile on his face. Crowley had seen that smile so many times over the millennia, but him causing it was a whole new thing. Well, that wasn’t true. Aziraphale was always smiling with the demon after their Arrangement, but seeing him smile in a romantic sense was entirely new. Well, that wasn’t true either. _I mean, in France, we were practically overlooking all over the crepes to smile and look at each other._ Crowley pondered. At the very least, he enjoyed being with his angel around Christmastime.

No, Crowley wasn’t a bah humbug around Christmas. In fact, he loved it! People buying way more gifts than need be? The major sales that caused everyone to fight and riot? The delightful classic Christmas movies? Crowley counted creating the sequel to Home Alone as one of his most favorite miracles. Aziraphale properly thanked him for that when it came out and they had gone together. Plus, as much of a demon as he was, he secretly loved seeing everyone happy around the holidays. In the past, it was one of the few times a year when Aziraphale truly allowed himself to let go of his heavenly duties to have a good time. In fact, that was the only reason Aziraphale went to that Christmas Ball all those years ago. Blame it on the feeling in the air.

“What are you thinking about, dear?” Aziraphale cooed as he drank a sip of his cocoa, looking incredibly cozy in his robe and pajamas. Ever since the two creatures had revealed their feelings to one another, parts of their history just appeared around them as happy tokens of fond memories, so the angel’s outfit was topped off with a delightful set of fluffy duck slippers. Crowley smiled at them. He was learning exactly how to interact with the ducks since that time he nearly drowned one. It wasn’t easy. That being said, Aziraphale was helping him every day to get more comfortable with them. As he thought, he looked down and saw that his own feet had been covered in duck slippers. _Shit._

In fact, parts of each other had started to appear in each other’s residences. At first, it was only small things. Aziraphale’s angel coffee mug was once on Crowley’s counter. Crowley’s sunglasses ended up under a heap of books ( _thank goodness they weren’t broken_ ; the angel had breathed a sigh of relief). But then, it became entirely too much to deal with. Aziraphale’s entire desk of work ended up lodged between some of his giant plants. One of his giant plants once blocked the entry to the bookshop! Because of these giant inconveniences, and definitely not because this was what they both desired deep in their hearts, the two moved in together. Crowley miracled his flat right above the bookshop and ever since, they’ve lived in perfect harmony, the masks from their past hanging right above their bed in the flat.

“Nothing, angel.” Aziraphale gave him a look, and Crowley laughed. “Just that I wish you would have made me a cup as well.”

“Darling, I DID make you one! You insisted that I put it on the counter so it could cool down. I know you like your cocoa lukewarm.” The angel protested.

“Ah, that you did.” At once, the cocoa appeared in his hand, just like he wanted. He sipped it and went to sit on the couch. The demon admired the large Christmas tree that stood in the middle of the bookshop. This was the perfect opportunity to prod Aziraphale. “Let me ask you something, angel. Do you think Christ knew that his birthday would eventually turn into a giant commercial nightmare?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and came to sit next to the demon. He miracled a blanket over them both to keep them cozy before taking yet another sip. “The season is for giving and being around your loved ones. That’s what it has been about for centuries. You know you’re not a Grinch, dear. Save your dramatics for Anathema”, the angel giggled as he grabbed a book on the side table.

“Why, I ought to…” Crowley began, but when he looked over at his angel, his heart swelled three times the normal size. He looked so precious in the light of the fire. Simply reading and sipping cocoa like that was his only job on Earth. The demon smiled widely, something he was doing a lot more often now. “I ought to tell you I love you.”

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, who was blushing, and began to blush himself. “I love you too, dear. Would you like me to read to you?”

“Would I ever say no to that?”

“Which book? Perhaps some Wilde?”

“I think I would prefer Seuss, so you can see just how much of a Grinch I really am!”

“Oh hush, dear! You wily…”

“Wily what? Exactly, you can’t even say. I’m just too great.”

“You’re wearing duck slippers, mister. Not even you can look tough in them.”

“Let me wear my duck slippers in peace, angel!”

“Whatever you say, darling.”

All- yes, all -was well.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was entirely inspired by this photo created by hollow-heads on tumblr: https://www.instagram.com/p/Bz1wlZ2lpWs/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
> 
> This is my first fanfiction, so if you like it, let me know! If this turns out well, I'll make another. :)
> 
> I am truly passionate about these characters and they have quite literally changed my life. I only wish to do them justice.


End file.
